


For the Purpose of Protecting

by ricochet (melas_chole)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Coping, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, M/M, Politics, Slow Burn, Will Add More Later, coming to terms with feelings, i guess, it's there but not too heavy-handed, so it shouldn't get in the way of your enjoyment of the story, some at least, Русский | Russian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 12:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8490475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melas_chole/pseuds/ricochet
Summary: Victor is beautiful perfection.Victor is radiant life. But carefully hidden from the public eye, behind kept up appearances and masked by an infallible image might lie more than meets the eye.And Yuuri might see more than he had hoped for as an unexpected call brings their peaceful life in Hasetsu to a grinding halt.(This might be seen as set between episodes 4 and 5.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, before you read: There is a trigger warning. 
> 
> I am reluctant to put it here because I don't want to spoil anything. I also want to respect the limits of any reader. As a compromise, I put the actual warning in the endnotes. If you think that you might be triggered by something and would prefer to be warned, please skip to the endnotes before reading this. This should be safe.
> 
> Also: The rating might go up in later chapters.
> 
> Apart from that, please enjoy the story!

Prologue

 

Victor on ice was beauty. Total sway over his body’s every movement, his audience’s every gaze. He compelled any eye to behold him and all the grace and emotion, he expressed.  
He was mesmerizing, passionate, vibrant. From every sweeping glide to every reeling spin, every powerful jump to the smallest gesture of his hands. He owned them all. Every embodiment of anguish, every attack and every conquest, every semblance of fragility, every seduction…he commanded them like they were his to play with yet more real, more absolute in their expression than anything ever displayed. In that he seemed transcendent.  
  
Victor off ice was…well, boisterous, flamboyant, attention-seeking — not that he lacked any. He was impulsive, incalculable and boundless; inveterately flirtatious and incapacitatingly charming.  
As a coach he was actuating, demanding and strict but also encouraging, attentive and focused; ruthlessly critical and shamelessly praising. He had an unraveling way to deliver each critique with a brilliant smile and each praise with resplendent incandescence.  
And he was blatantly lively. In everything he did, he seemed to live to the fullest. Every skate, every soak, every meal and every nap. He was of blithe cheerfulness, playful levity and of radiant life.  
  
But as Yuuri would soon learn, beyond graceful perfection and flirtatious verve, lay an expanse of emotion that eyes were rarely lain on.

  
———————————————

 

 Chapter 1

 

  
Victor was sitting in the common area by himself, his head resting on his propped up hand while he was reading a book. The TV was blaring quietly, the single current customer of the onsen and Yuuri’s father, comfortably peeking through the service hatch, were following a baseball game.  
  
Yuuri was away, running errants for his parents.  
  
He hadn’t been able to help them out much recently. With his new rigorous training routine he was either still training or too dead tired and his parents very keenly supported him, happily sending him off to another evening run or ordering him to unwind in the hot springs.  
  
This evening he had practically jumped at the opportunity to help his parents, so it was Yuuri’s mother, who gently sat down a cup of hot tea on the Russian’s table.  
  
„Thank you!“ He smiled at her, strands of his silvery hair falling into his face. She beamed at him heartily as she got up from her seiza, thinking what a nice man he was.  
  
Returning to the kitchen, Hiroko poured two cups of tea for herself and her husband and joined him in the backroom. Fond smiles were exchanged as she handed him his cup and, folding together her apron, she sat down to do some paperwork.  
  
Time went by with comfortable sips of steaming tea and a shared, unharried presence.

  
———

Victor looked up from his book surprisedly as his phone started vibrating on the low, wooden table. The caller ID only furthered his his perturbation and he knit his brows as he swiped the display to answer the call.  
  
„Алло?“ His voice rang faintly trough the air.  
  
Nobody seemed to answer him at first, though he definitely heard somebody on the line.  
His frown deepened. „Никит?!“  
  
The caller’s voice broke. „Витька…!“  
  
Trying to steady himself, the caller continued with a trembling voice. „Они…Илью…!“ The voice sounded pressing, desperate and terrified.  
  
„Все, все, тише! Успокаивайся!“ Victor urged, his voice hushed but alarmed. „Что с Ильей?!“  
  
„Витька! Эти люди…они поймали Илью, и они пытали его, и…!“  
  
Victors face went pale, his heart and mind racing. The customer glanced at him. He had to get up, get away from here.  
  
Hiroko had vaguely picked up on Victor’s call. She hadn’t been able to actually hear anything, this changed, however, when Victor escaped the common room into the hallway.  
Sitting just opposite the thin wall, she could hear Victor’s kept-down words clearly and could even make out the very agitated voice at the other end of the line.  
  
She didn’t mean to eavesdrop but the words spoken instantaneously disquieted her.  
  
„Что? Что ты говоришь?!“ Victor demanded alarmed.  
  
The other man’s voice was a terrified weeping.  
  
„Эти сволочи делали с ним такие жуткие, такие мерзкие вещи…! На камеру!“ He sobbed.  
  
„Никит, пожалуйста!“ Victor futilely tried to comfort. „Успокойся!“  
  
„Вить!“ The other bawled. „Они убили его!“  
  
And Victor’s mind went blank.

  
———————————————

 

  
When Yuuri came back about an hour later, Makkachin greeted him elatedly no later than he had made it through the door.  
  
"Hey, Makkachin! Hello!" The dog was thrilled to be vigorously petted.  
  
The inn was quiet, the lights in the foyer already dimmed, as Yuuri made his way to the rec room with the dog frolicking about him. „I’m home!“  
  
His eyes glanced over the book and cup of tea sitting on a table of the otherwise deserted common room.  
  
"Mom?" Yuuri called out, frowning.  
  
"I'm back here, honey! Welcome back!“  
  
„Where is Victor?“ Yuuri inquired as he rounded the corner to the laundry were his mother was folding away the inn’s white linen sheets, something she usually did when all the guests were retired to their rooms.  
  
„I think he is in his room.“ His mother offered.  
  
„And left his book here?“ Unexpectedly enough, Victor was actually very considerate…well, at least with Yuuri’s parents. But what was more… „And Makkachin?!“ The young man demanded disbelieving. The dog next to him looked up at her with big eyes.  
  
Hiroko sighed. „He didn’t seem so happy before.“ She glanced at the dog and back to her son. „Maybe he forgot?“  
  
"What do you mean?!" He had never seen Victor not happy.  
  
She couldn't help but let the kindly sorrow she’d felt for the man cloud her brows as she put the last folded sheet on a pile, aware of her son's eyes following her frantically.  
  
„He got a phone call before.“ She disclosed sorrily. „It…sounded rather upsetting.“  
   
Yuuri gaped at her with wide eyes, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. She could see, he was now in full blown panic mode.  
  
„What did he say?!“ Yuuri urged her, grabbing her arms.  
  
His mother’s friendly face was frowning worriedly and she sighed. „It was Russian, Yuuri. You know I don’t speak any Russian!“  
  
Of course. He couldn’t blame her for that. Yuuri’s grip on her arms loosened, his gaze dropping. He looked distressed. She wanted to give him something.  
  
„But—“ she spoke again and Yuuri’s eyes immediately darted back up at her. „The person on the other side seemed very agitated. Their voice sounded deeply troubled and I think they were crying.“  
  
Yuuri’s brows were knit uneasily and she had to admit, she was very concerned herself. „I think Vicchan tried to calm them down but—„  
  
„Hiroko!“ The voice of Yuuri’s father could be heard from the storage room. „Can you help me with this?!“  
  
She gave her son a small, encouraging smile before his hands slid from her arms and she disappeared through into the hallway.

  
———————————————

 

  
In his room, Victor lay on his bed unmoving. His eyes torn open, staring blankly into the empty space before him.  
  
He felt numb as he bent his knees. Left not quite filled with terror but too wide open. Like having been crushed and feeling nothing.  
  
It was probably better this way.  
  
Victor drew his legs up higher as he blinked, his eyes dry from gazing blindly into the darkness. All he felt was hollow…and devoid of…anything, really…as every thought, every feeling he had, coiled up deep inside him.  
  
Forcing his eyes shut, he brought his thighs even closer to his chest and unguarded in the quiet of his room and the darkness of the night he silently curled in on himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Practice the next day was customary.  
  
Only that it wasn’t.  
  
Victor had left for the rink early and once Yuuri caught up with him, he realized that something was wrong.  
Victor smiled at him brightly from where he was leaning against the boards of the rink. As if nothing had ever happened. He was all charm and smiles. Telling him to hurry up and not miss his training.  
  
The whole display was as natural as it was convincing. Yuuri vaguely played along, silently registering that Victor’s ability to mask his emotion would put any Japanese person to shame.  
Yet for some reason, behind all his perfect acting, Yuuri clearly saw that is was just that: an act.  
  
Granted, his demeanor was always an act.  
  
A marvelous, dazzling, enchanting act!  
  
But none that seemed too hard for him to play. Or that, for that matter, lacked authenticity.  
The act was part of who Victor was.  
  
But now — for the first time — it seemed strenuous…painful almost.  
  
Victor played his act nonetheless.  
  
And Yuuri doubted that anyone else would notice.  
  
———  
  
„Draw your arms in closer to your body!"  
  
Victor had him work on the transitions between his jumps and spins.  
He was overseeing his training and occasionally shouting out instructions from the side of the rink.  
  
Yuuri had become an expert in observing Victor closely.  
Even before he had arrived in Hasetsu and become his coach.  
  
Ever since he had been twelve, Yuuri had watched Victor in awe on his television screen. He had attentively followed all of his routines, had observed his whole body closely for years, right down to the smallest movement and the minutest detail, to copy them perfectly.  
  
The inconceivability of Victor actually showing up in his life had only furthered his acute observance.  
  
This gave him a clear advantage when watching him demonstrate moves now that he was his coach. And it most certainly did not let him miss the slight tremor of Victors hands as he pushed himself off the boards.  
  
There was this one particular segue that Yuuri just didn't manage to Victors satisfaction. So he looked to Victor who purposefully pushed himself off the boards to demonstrate the movements to him.  
  
When Yuuri noticed his hands were trembling he found himself dumbfounded but promptly took his eyes off Victor’s hands and looked at his face, hoping the other hadn’t registered that he had picked up on it.  
  
Victor clenched his fingers and for a just for a second he seemed almost taken aback and unsure what to do.  
  
„Just try it again!“ Was all he said.  
  
_Okay!?_ Yuuri tried not to frown and skated off to the center of the ice.  
  
He had been sure that Victor had wanted to demonstrate the movements to him again. Precisely how he wanted them. Had he been wrong about that?  
And had Victor's hands really been shaking?  
Yuuri's mind was clouded with worries and he wondered what it was that was troubling Victor ever since that call the night before. But he did as he was instructed and practiced the transitions until Yuu-chan called them both to have a break.  
  
———  
  
Both of them didn’t talk much during their lunch break and the rest of the training.  
Yuuri couldn't help but frown as he peeked over at Victor, smiling charmingly at Yuu-chan and complimenting her on the light bento she had brought them.  
  
_He was so good at this!_ Yuuri wondered whether his perception had been wrong and he was was just imagining things. But then again he couldn’t shake the feeling that Victor seemed distant and somehow…restrained. Even now as he was making his childhood-friend blush just like every other day that she brought a portion of whatever she had cooked for the triplets for the two of them.  
  
The rest of the training passed in a way not too unusual. After lunch Victor had given him an extensive run-down of what he thought Yuuri should work on and the next training steps he recommended. He had stayed outside of the rink watching Yuuri, filming some of the sequences with his iPad for them to go over together at a later point and taking notes.  
  
„Yuuri!“ Victor called out to him „That’s it, let’s finish for today!“  
  
Yuuri’s skin was wet with perspiration and his limbs were starting to feel wobbly but he was still pumped to keep going.  
  
"Let me try it for ten more minutes!“  
  
His coach nodded in consent and sat down on the bench to save all the data of the day.  
  
Victor’s fingers paused in mid air when he saw an e-mail he had received. With on e prompt tap he opened it and quickly read over the few lines, not much more than the subject had already contained.

The sound of Yuuri’s skates on the ice seemed to fade out in the thick quiet that enclosed him, his loud heartbeat soon the only sound marking the passage of time as he stared at the blue hyperlink in the mail.

 _He should not. He probably should not._ A distant part of his mind cautioned him as his eyes hovered over the link. A quick glance told him that Yuuri was far off eagerly engrossed in his jumps.  
Victor tried to swallow but found that he hardly could, and then his unsteady fingers hit the link.  
  
The second the link opened Victor felt like endlessly falling and crashing at the same time. He didn’t know whether he was still breathing, or whether the shock and ache he felt had made any sound. His vision became hazy around his hands and the tablet shaking heavily.  
His fingers wanted to touch the picture displayed but he couldn't for fear of inflicting any more pain, where his mind knew no pain could ever be inflicted again.  
  
„Hey Yuuri, Victor!“ Takeshi Nishigori’s voice boomed through the rink. „You're ready to pack up for the evening classes?“  
  
Victor, completely startled, dropped his iPad on the bench and clutched to the seat to steady himself as he looked up at the man. He looked pale and stunned as if he had seen a ghost and Takeshi knit his thick brows, wondering whether he should say something.  
  
„Hey, Nishigori!“ Yuuri started to skate to the exit of the rink.  
  
Victor was glad for the few seconds in which the other man didn’t look at him. But it wasn’t enough.  
  
„Um?“ Victor tried not to jump as he was addressed again. „Do you have time to go over the new schedule for skating classes?“  
  
Victor concentrated on trying to regain his composure as the other was telling him something about interest in skating increasing ever since they had the Onsen on Ice and that they had to accommodate two new classes which they needed to harmonize with their private training hours at the Ice Castle.  
  
„Of course.“ Victor tried to sound level-headed and prayed that his legs would not give in as he stood to follow Takeshi to the small office.  
  
„I see you later then!“ Yuuri, who had arrived at the enclosure of the rink and dried his face with a towel, called after them.  
  
Getting off the ice, Yuuri’s eyes fell on the iPad on the bench and he picked it up.  
  
His thumb unintentionally touched the home button and when the display lit up Yuuri froze.  
His eyes were transfixed on a picture of a young man kneeling bruised and beaten between two people wearing face masks. Right above it a headline ran "Russian anti-propaganda law claims another victim. International human rights advocates caution against renewed violence as right-wing extremists torture and kill 24-year-old in an emulation of earlier crimes.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long - rl can be a bitch sometimes!
> 
> this part got longer than intended, so I had to split the second chapter in two. I hope to update the next chapter sooner than this one.
> 
> originally, I only thought this would be 3 to 4 chapters but so far the draft already has 9.000 words, so there is gonna be much more angsty victuri where this came from.
> 
> please leave kudos and comments, if you like this so far: your love is what keeps me going! :)
> 
> ———
> 
> ah, yes, I did promise a translation of the phone conversation Victor has in chaper 1.  
> he is talking to somebody called Nikita but they are both using nicknames as using their full first names would be really uncommon among friends in Russia.  
> so, here you go:
> 
> Hello?  
> Nikit?!
> 
> Vit’ka!  
> They…Ilya…!
> 
> Hush! Calm down!  
> What’s with Ilya?
> 
> Victor, those people, they got Ilya and they tortured him and…!
> 
> What? What are you saying?!
> 
> They did so terrible, so horrendous things to him…! On camera!
> 
> Nikit, Please!  
> Calm down!
> 
> Vit’!  
> They killed him!


	3. Chapter 3

A dream started Yuuri from his sleep.

  
_He had been chasing after his dog Vicchan, who kept running and running and running away from him. He had called after his dog but Vicchan wouldn’t stop._  
  
Yuuri furrowed his brows, somehow Yurio had been there, too. Or at least his presence. He had seemed triumphant but stern.  
  
_Yuuri had kept running and running, stumbling and calling out for his beloved dog in what appeared to be gathering snow. And then he had hardly been able to see Vicchan anymore as he disappeared in a flurry of snow_ and Yuuri had woken with a start.  
  
His shirt felt slightly damp and every breath weighed heavy on him as he sat up and felt the mattress for his glasses. Somehow this dream filled him with a strange sense of imminent loss.  
  
Yuuri decided to get up instead of dwelling on this very unpleasant emotion that, once roused, was quickly joined by the worries of his waking mind.  
  
He slipped into his tracksuit and out of his room to clear his mind with a nightly run.  
  
His eyes helplessly grazed the door to Victor’s quiet room as he passed it in the hallway and he hung his head. After practice Victor had sent him a message stating that he would be eating out today and telling him not to wait for him.  
Yuuri hadn’t been able to talk to him since then.  
But then again what would he have wanted to say to him…?  
  
———  
  
The night was overcast and the moon illuminated the edges of the clouds as Yuuri jogged over the bridge. The cloudy halos reflected off the water around him, the only sounds his feet on the pavement and the soft crashing of the waves.  
  
He found that his thoughts kept returning to Victor.  
The cool breeze chilled his face as he tried to connect the dots between the call his mother had told him about, the slight shift in his behavior and the article he had involuntarily discovered on Victor’s iPad today.  
  
The article still shook him in so many ways.  
  
Closing his eyes, he tried to run up against the dread he felt building up inside.  
He wished Victor would talk to him, but immediately felt presumptuous. Why should Victor talk to _him_? And the thought stung his heart.  
  
The salt-tanged night air was sharp in his lungs as his apprehension about what was going on with Victor blended into the lingering emotions of his dream.  
  
The force of habit led him to the familiar edifice below Hasetsu’s castle. Yet, when he neared the ice rink, Yuuri raised a puzzled brow: A dim light was shining through the skylights of the tall building.  
  
He decelerated his jog and eyed his watch suspiciously as he approached the entrance of the rink. From his own experience, he knew that none of the employees were ever at the Ice Castle this late. To his knowledge, the only other person having a key to the building was…Victor!?  
  
Yuuri hardly noticed how he tore open the door and how his soft steps hastily hurried through the deserted building. He was driven on by an urgency to know.  
  
In the locker rooms, he heard the familiar sounds of blades swiftly cutting over ice, their sudden suspension, followed by the sharp prick of a landing echo trough the empty hall as he instinctively laced his blades.  
  
Yuuri's heart beat wildly in anticipation and as he entered the skating hall. His eyes widened, hand holding on to the doorframe, as he beheld Victor skating solitarily on the dimly lit rink.  
  
His skating seemed impossibly fast and forceful. He was launching himself into the jumps with high speed, as if throwing himself; reeling in the combination spins with staggeringly high revolutions per minute as if trying to hurl out everything he felt.  
  
Yuuri could see that he was exhausted, which was no wonder if he had been at it with that kind of force for some time. Beads of sweat were glistening on his brows and Yuuri was sure that at this point his body was both aching and numb.  
Yet he skated on.  
  
Yuuri couldn't help but watch.  
  
He had never seen him skate like this before. Victor’s skating seemed so raw…  
It was a riveting to witness as he landed one jump after another in merciless succession, yet almost painful to see the desperate urgency in the sheer speed and force of the spins and jumps.  
  
It was a disquieting kind of beauty.  
  
Yuuri hadn't noticed that he had approached and was standing at the edge of the rink as he had been watching in conflicted awe. And when Victor over-rotated an Axel and missed the landing, Yuuri’s hands clutched the boards in frozen shock. With the full momentum of the fast jump Victor’s body hit the ice and a painful gasp escaped his throat.  
  
He immediately got himself up on his knees and hands. He balled his fists on the ice but then, to Yuuri's alarm, he stopped and did not get up.  
  
Victor stayed on his knees and hands, his face was turned downwards towards the ice and his bangs shielded his expression. His chest was heaving from exertion and sweat was dripping onto the ice.  
  
_That was sweat, right?!_  
  
Yuuri was petrified. He had never seen Victor falling…and not get up.  
He would always catch the fall, turn it into an overtly dramatic gesture and/or be up and laughing again in a matter of seconds. And those were the few times he had ever seen him fall at all in over ten years. Unrest begun to rush through him.  
  
Victor clenched his gloved fist and forcefully struck down against the ice.  
  
Yuuri felt like hit by a truck.  
  
With a sharp inhale that was lost on the frosty expanse Victor leaned forward, dropping his head to his fists, and Yuuri snapped.  
  
Ere he knew it, he was on the ice.  
  
Victor’s head jolted up at the sound of skates hitting the ice, drops flying from his startled face.  
  
He hastened to push himself up but in a matter of seconds Yuuri had dashed to his side, shaves if ice flying, and without slowing down he slid to his knees and almost skidded him some inches over the surface as he caught him in a firm embrace.  
  
Victor was completely taken aback Yuuri’s action. But after a moment of hesitation, he realized that the young man wouldn’t let him go and his stiffened body relaxed, his head falling onto Yuuri's shoulder. His heart was already cracking open — dangerously, like a rapidly spreading crevice on a frozen winter lake.  
  
Too determined by his visceral impulse to be shocked by his own boldness, Yuuri felt Victor’s body starting to quiver. He sensed the weight of Victor's head on his shoulder, his rugged breaths hot against the skin of his neck.  
  
Yuuri slid his arms further around Victor's back.  
By his ear he heard the others voice, struggling so hard to hold back but increasingly trembling.  
  
When the first sob inadvertently escaped Victor's throat, Yuuri felt like breaking through the surface of an ice covered lake. Falling with terror into its deadly cold water, Yuuri clasped Victor closely and tried not to drown with Victor crying in his arms.  
  
He held the other man securely, as cold begun to seep through their shins.  
Amidst Victor's tears soaking his shirt, Yuuri caught fragments of words almost inaudible spoken. „—y?!“ Yuuri listened attentively, trying to make out the muffled, forlorn words.  
  
“Why?!“ Victor's hoarse voice sounded despairingly rueful. „Why?! Why him?!"  
  
Yuuri felt miserable.  
  
"Why am I alive?!“  
  
In the prolonged fractions of a second Yuuri's eyes widened and the air left his lungs. Victor's words struck his heart in a way to make Yuuri's spirit feel faint.  
  
With his falling sense of self he clung to Victor. Clung to him with all of his senses — to his warmth, his scent and the sound of his breathing — as he sat on the ice and held the other man close, more helpless than he had ever felt before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is: chapter 3 and finally something is happening!
> 
> I hope so much, you liked it!


	4. Chapter 4

When they sat down for dinner with the rest of the Katsuki family the following night — one of the rare occasions they all managed to eat together — it was after a long day of training and little sleep.  
  
Victor had insisted, they train as usual. Yuuri had hardly slept at all after returning to his bed in the early morning hours. And he doubted that Victor had slept much more.  
  
He was still trying to come to terms with what had happened the night before and what was actually going on in Victor’s life.  
His mind kept flashing back the vivid memory of Victor crying in his arms, to the article he had seen on Victor's iPad, to the young man in the photo, who he had been to Victor and that he was now dead.  
He tried not to let it show but he felt immensely uprooted by all of this.  
This was too close and too real and too muddled by Yuuri's own feeling getting tangled up with it.  
And he had far too many feelings about this than he was able to sort out.  
  
Yuuri blinked and watched Victor sitting across from him as his mother happily offered him a serving of rice. He smiled gallantly and thanked her.  
  
"It's good to have you back!" Yuuri’s mother couldn't stop herself from voicing her genuinely warm thoughts.  
  
Victor had basically only missed one dinner, and not even for the first time. But Hiroko also hadn't seen him for breakfast the last two days — or around at all, for that matter — but instead had only ever seen her son's concerned face.  
  
The truth also was that she hadn't really stopped thinking about the phone call two nights before, she had accidentally been privy to, and the way at one point Victor's voice had just gone silent .  
  
Even now, she could see that something was bothering him behind his polite and superficially cheerful demeanor.  
  
Victor just looked at her for a while as something seemed to clouded his blue eye.  
  
"I'm sorry, if I have worried you!" He cast down his eyes.  
  
His hand about to grab the chopsticks, uncurled and rested flat on top of them.  
  
"I—" he started again, this time in English, but he seemed to struggle with the words.  
  
Mari flashed her mother a thoroughly bewildered glance. And they both turned to stare at Yuuri queryingly. Yuuri looked abject.  
  
"A friend in Russia has been—" Victor faltered, "—has died.“  
  
Pusillanimously, Yuuri translated his words into Japanese for his parents only to have their eyes trained on himself.  
  
He shrunk under their gazes traveling between him and Victor, shaken with the news.  
  
Hiroko had expected something like this, yet it made her heart ache as she looked at the young man, who had been part of her household for some months now.  
  
"With regards to my behavior!" Victor added in Japanese. "Please forgive me!"  
  
Yuuri felt dreadful.  
  
But while his family was still trying to find the proper words, Victor mustered a smile and with one resolutely lighthearted _Itadakimasu!_ proceeded to eat.  
  
And that was that.  
  
_If a Japanese family could do one thing_ , Mari surmised, _then it was to tactfully not inquire and eat._  
  
And so they did.  
  
They ate in taut silence, each left to their own thoughts, and no one dared to say a word as chopsticks clicked against bowls and seconds and covert glances were passed.  
  
After dinner Mari helped her mother to lightly clear the table for some tea.  
Even she didn't wear the detached, unimpressed mien that she could rarely be seen without.  
  
She had just poured Victor some tea and he had thanked her, as her mother took heart to broach the subject again.  
  
"So, Vicchan?" Hiroko's voice was caring and warm. "Will you go back to Russia for the funeral?"  
  
For a moment Victor just looked at her.  
  
Yuuri fidgeted nervously in his seiza next to his mother, not quite daring to look up.  
The thought of Victor going back Russia made him feel uneasy.  
He felt ashamed for having such self-centered thoughts. Yet he couldn't help himself.  
  
Yuuri's mother leaned in to him. "Fu-ne-ra—?" She pronounced questioningly, looking for the English word.  
  
"Yes, funeral." He confirmed uneasily under his breath. Irritated as much by the question and his own lapse to translate.  
  
"Whether you're going to Russia for the funeral." Yuuri translated her words, glancing up to catch a glimpse of Victor’s eyes, before the other addressed his mother in reply.  
  
"Yes." His voice was sober. "Yes, I will!"  
  
There was an almost inaudible inhale, Victor’s heart clearly heavy with the thought.  
  
"It’s already past the third day, but the funeral won’t be until in a couple of days." He reflected, his voice unusually thin. „I’d like to be there.“  
  
Yuuri stole a glance at Victor over the rim of his glasses — platinum bangs were falling over his downcast eyes — when a sudden push under the table jolted him up.  
  
"I—" he spluttered, "I could come with you!"  
  
At once Yuuri felt not only Victor’s eyes but those of everyone at the table fixed upon him.  
  
"Only if you want me to, that is." He backpedalled abashedly.  
  
Victor’s eyes widened in wonder. "You would do that!?"  
  
Yuuri swallowed and tried to nod.  
  
"Yes, yes, Yuuri can do that!" Yuuri’s mother, who seemed to have understood, endorsed.  
  
"You boys only make sure to come back safely!"  
  
———  
  
"Yuuri, wait!" Mari caught up after her brother in the hallway. Looking around, she dragged him to the side.  
  
"Mom and dad might not have noticed." She looked at him intently. "But what did Victor originally want to say?“  
  
"What, what do you mean?" Yuuri stumbled, feeling trapped by her inquiring eyes.  
  
"His friend!" She urged. "Did he really just die?"  
  
"Mari…" He pleaded, hoping that she would let him go.  
But her eyes were stern and her hand firmly held on to his shoulder.  
_Why would she ask him this? He felt churned up. Why would she have to know?_  
  
To Mari he looked like a startled animal.  
  
"No." Yuuri sighed.  
  
"No, Mari,…" his voice hitched, "...he was killed."  
  
He felt incredibly tired and his eyes burned as he slouched his shoulders, his gaze falling to the ground.  
  
"Why?" Mari probed.  
  
_Why? Why would she ask that?_ Yuuri's eyes watered.  
  
Hit bit his lip as he looked up at her, trying to defy her inquiring stare.  
  
"I don’t know." He tried to evade. _But is was true, wasn't it? Victor hadn't told him. He had only happened to find the article…_  
  
"You’re lying!" His sister called him out.  
  
He was too tired for this. _Why did she even need to know? He had never even dared to talk about something like this with his sister. How did this even matter?_  
He felt his temper rising while tears kept bubbling in his eyes.  
  
Yuuri didn’t look at his sister so he missed the increasingly worried frown as she squeezed his shoulder tighter.  
  
_Why was she so persistent?_ A hot tear spilled from his eyes. _Why was this any of her concern?_  
  
"I don’t know, Mari?!" He spat, louder than he had intended to. "Maybe because he was gay!"  
  
She blinked and Yuuri was too distraught to wonder whether she was shocked. She looked at him for some long seconds. He tried to bear up against her scrutiny, his eyes still brimming with furious tears.  
  
All of a sudden, she yanked him forward and clasped him in her arms.  
  
"Nee-san!" His lips quivered. And a stream of tears poured into her red service robe.  
  
———  
  
When Victor returned from walking Makkachin, he found Yuuri asleep on his bed.  
Around him an assortment of things: his wallet and notebook, opened up next to his pillow to a long list of flights, his glasses and under his left hand his passport.  
  
Victor removed most of the items placing them on Yuuri’s desk and turned off the small lamp.  
With long fingers he gently withdrew Yuuri’s passport from underneath his hand.  
  
Dim light from the hallway shone into Yuuri’s room until Victor softly closed his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, I hope this didn't seem too much like a filler chapter to you.
> 
> at first there only was the discussion at dinner but then Mari inserted herself into the story more and more. ;) 
> 
> her relashionship to her younger brother seems interesting, though.   
> I get the feeling that they aren't really close - the are also 7 years apart, mind you - but also that she loves her little brother and supports him if he is serious about something.  
> I don't think Yuuri ever talked too his family about possibly liking men; but I think at least Mari guesses as much.
> 
> also, now you now that they are going to fly to Russian together.   
> and isn't that something we all are waiting for?!^^
> 
> I'm gonna go right back and flesh out the next chapter. I hope I'll be able to publish it soon.

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story quite some time ago, after the second episode, I believe, but my work keeps me so terribly busy at the moment. However, I have actually sketched out and partially written a lot of the story already, so I hope — fingers crossed — that updates won't take too long.
> 
> RL sometimes downrightly sucks, especially when all you want to do is immerse yourself in gay figure skaters. This show is my end and I'm completely rapt about it!
> 
> This story kind of means a lot to me. So, I really hope you like it!!!
> 
> I can assure you that every kudos and comment you leave will make me incredibly happy!
> 
> ———
> 
> Ah, I forgot: As a kind of aknowledgement of classical fanfiction traditions, I tried myself at the genre of a drabble in the strict sense: the prologue is actually two drabbles (and a scentence).
> 
> ———
> 
> With regards to the Russian. I unfortunately do not speak Russian. I merely used the internet and my general understanding of how languages work to write the lines in Russian.
> 
> With the incredibly kind help of [The_Last_American_Virgin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Last_American_Virgin/pseuds/The_Last_American_Virgin), who took so much time to help me improve the dialogue and explain so many things in Russian to me, I hope the conversation now feels natural.
> 
> ———
> 
> As for the trigger warning: This chapter contains mentions of torture and murder (in Russian); they are not graphic but they are there. So, if you feel that you might be triggered by this, please only read at your discretion.


End file.
